Abyss
by CSIGurlie07
Summary: This is my "Depths" tag. You all knew it was coming. It's got more Magnus!whump, and a slightly different approach to the tension that been building this season. Rated T for language. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I am by no means implying that I could have written "Depths" better. This is simply a slightly whumpier, more even approach to the tension that's been building between our two lovely main characters. And plus, I just wanted to see what would have happened if MAGNUS had been the one to get the bigger dose of the magic water. :) This is my interpretation._

_Feel free to let me know what you think. I can't guarantee a regular posting on this, since my priority is my SG-1 fic, but this has been keeping me occupied at work while doing otherwise mind-numbing tasks. So yes, in other words it is a culmination of my daydreaming. _;)

_Enjoy!_

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><p>Will's eyes blinked open, pulling against encrusted grit and dust that instantly began to sting. He hissed, and tried to lift himself up onto his elbows, only to groan in instant agony. With a cry he fell back, looking down to paw past his bloodstained shirt to find a small, oozing bullet wound that was far more painful than it looked like it should be.<p>

But once he gathered his senses beyond the immediate pain, he recognized that it really wasn't so bad. It was still bleeding, and it hurt like a bitch, but it looked like it wasn't near anything vital. Magnus would be able to patch him up easily enough.

Magnus. _Shit_.

"Magnus!" Will's voice echoed off the rock walls, sounding more and more panicked with each reverberation. "Magnus!"

He pushed himself to his feet, his concern for her dulling his own pain with a rush of adrenaline. His eyes were drawn instantly to the massive pile of rock that reapped them in the cavern. He hoped to god she wasn't under that.

He couldn't remember anything except the ceiling starting to fall, and the pain of being shot. He'd heard Magnus' voice shouting, but nothing else. Where was she?

"MAGNUS!"

"_Will_…" The voice was dry and weak, sending a shiver of fear down his spine. His eyes darted towards the sound of it, but still couldn't see her. Oh god, oh god, please don't let her be buried…

"Magnus?"

"Will…" This time she trailed off into a round of dry, hacking coughs as she tried to clear her throat of the dust that no doubt coated hers as it did his. Her hand lifted from the rubble, and Will saw it.

Now he could see her, her black clothes so covered with dust she was indistinguishable from the surrounding rock. But he followed the line of her arm, and spied the twist of her tangled legs. But his heart leapt to his throat when he saw the jumble of rocks that was scattered on top of her.

"Oh my god, Magnus—" He stumbled over to her, falling to his knees at her side. "Magnus!"

"Will…"

"Hold on, Magnus, I'm gonna get you out. Just hang in there."

Her eyes blinked through dirt-packed lashes to look at him blearily. One eye seemed bluer than the other. It took him a moment to realize her pupil sizes were uneven. Her hand flopped towards where he knelt, brushing his knee as she reached for him.

"You're injured…" she pointed out breathlessly, her tone just a little confused, as if she couldn't figure out _why_ he was bleeding.

"It's nothing," he told her quickly. For now, it really was nothing. He could handle it. "Just hold on, Magnus…"

A thick line of blood ran along her hairline, its source a deep gash high on her forehead. A rock nearby had a dark splotch of blood on it, and he could only assume that it had fallen on her in the cave in, then rolled away. Thank god it hadn't been big enough to crush her skull outright.

But at the moment, her head wound was the least of his concern. First he had to get the rest of the rocks off her. If he had the time, he would worry if it was even safe to lift them, because something told him that removing the pressure could only bring more problems. But she was starting move, writhing against her impromptu prison as she tried to get up.

"Magnus, stop! Don't move." A wordless groan answered him. "Magnus, please…"

"I can't breathe…" she moaned, her accent thick. His eyes widened, and his hands immediately began to scrabble at the rocks, searching for purchase. One by one he lifted them as quickly as he dared, throwing them off to the side in an effort to free her.

"Magnus…" What did he do now? He didn't know what to do with himself.

"Up," she answered curtly. "I need to get up—"

"What—no, Magnus! If your ribs are broken—"

"Up. Upupupup—" She broke off into a wet cough, and Will found himself responding the only way he knew how. He gently helped her sit up, his hands supporting her shoulders as he put his arm between her and the ground. In the end, he cradled her, ignoring the fiery pain of his own gunshot in the face of her overwhelming vulnerability.

He carefully wiped away the specks of blood that came to her lips, trying not to think about what it meant. Or that he was holding his boss in his arms—a woman so tough she seemed infallible—as she struggled to suck in a breath.

"How's that?" he asked, after her breathing eased a little.

She nodded, her head bobbing as she blinked in relief. "Better." She winced. "A little."

Her eyes opened then, and she turned her head to scan their surroundings. "The others…?"

"Dead, I think. The entire corridor back there must have collapsed. We got lucky."

She huffed a laugh that instantly morphed into a grunt of pain. "Yeah," she breathed. "Lucky."

"Yeah," he concurred. His face pulled into a grimace, out of reflex more than anything else, and though he tried to hide it she saw it.

"Will, your wound!" She tried to heft herself out of his arms, but only got halfway before the pain had her gasping. But still she tried to examine his injury as best she could. "Dear God. Why didn't you say anything?"

"It's just a flesh wound," he joked. But her eyes narrowed in displeasure. He took it as a good sign—she was more coherent now, in any case. "Magnus, your ribs…"

"Broken…" she murmured, her eyes closed. He pulled her against him once more.

"I need to look at them," he told her, his hand already pulling her shirt up. She began to voice a protest, but when she only managed a grunt, he took advantage of the opportunity and glanced at the exposed skin.

His stomach churned sickeningly, and he swallowed against rising bile. Normally pale skin was mottled with purpling bruising, and the slightest touch against her skin made her groan with pain.

"Magnus…"

"We have to get you sewn up, Will. It's a miracle you haven't bled out yet, and—" she trailed off for a moment, but then opened her eyes once more. "Even now… risk of infection…"

"Magnus, you're the one bleeding out here," he pointed out grimly.

He half-expected her to contradict him. The fact that she didn't scared the crap out of him. "Possible pneumo… pneumothorax as well…"

It was getting harder for her breathe again. But he knew that they wouldn't get anywhere by arguing. "I'll find the medkit. We'll go from there."

"...should rest…" she told him.

"Yes, you should," he returned blithely, turning her concern back onto her with a deft hand. He carefully transferred her to a nearby boulder, where she could lean as comfortably as she could while he got up to look. "Just keep breathing okay?"

It took longer than he would have liked to find the kit she wanted, but as he continued to walk around, his hand clamped onto his side, his wound woke up again, making its presence known with a vengeance. He stumbled and teetered on the verge of falling over until he finally found the first aid kit. It was half smashed, but hopefully she could scrounge enough out of it that it could be of some good.

In the end, he had to lay out on the cave floor, as she leaned her shoulder heavily against the boulder as her hands worked to remove the bullet. He struggled to keep the flashlight steady for her, holding its beam on his wound as best he could as he grunted through the pain of forceps digging through his flesh.

But it was over sooner than he expected, and despite her own disorientation he was left with a couple of neat stitches and a relatively clean bandage covering the sight. When she was done she relaxed back against the boulder breathlessly, her eyes closing in pain.

"Magnus?" He rolled to one side before pushing himself, trying not to tear his brand new stitches. For a long moment, she didn't answer. "Magnus!"

"Water…" she got out, her voice raspy. Exhausted.

He nodded. Water. Right. He could do water. He got to his feet, and worked his way through what was left of the SCIU team's supplies. Nothing. A single bottle of water was cracked and empty—useless. But then he spied the now-empty bottle of disinfectant. Its contents had been spilled liberally—and agonizingly—over his wound, and now… Well, it wouldn't be half-bad as a water bottle.

Invigorated in his now half-completed task, he searched every crevice, every dark pocket between the rocks for moisture. Nothing, until he heard the tantalizing sound of trickling water.

"Magnus! Magnus, I think I found something here!" he called out. He didn't expect her to answer, and she didn't, but the sound of his voice was more reassuring than the sound of her strained breaths bouncing off the walls. He moved along the edge of the cave, feeling his way closer to the sound.

Then he saw the barely there trickle. His eyes tracked to the ditch below, and the glimmer of standing water sent his spirits soaring. "Magnus, there's water!" He dipped the bottle into the pool, and then paused only a moment before taking a swig. "Tastes fresh enough," he called, swallowing his mouthful.

He filled the bottle the rest of the way, then twisted the cap on it before straining his way back onto his feet. He tripped his way back to where he'd left her, and nearly fell completely when he saw her eyes closed, her body motionless.

"No," he moaned. "No, no, no..." He fell to his knees beside her, fumbling with the bottle cap, trying to get it off. "Magnus, stay with me!"

He put the bottle to her lips, and for a heart-stopping moment it trailed down her chin before her reflexes kicked in and she sputtered, her eyes blinking open in confusion. She instinctively swiped at his hand, but he refused to budge.

"Magnus, you need to drink. Please… It's water…"

By the grace of god she obeyed, sucking down several gulps before she pushed him away, leaning back in exhaustion. But after she'd blinked a few times, her eyes looked clearer. She turned to look at him.

"Did you find a way out of here?"

He shook his head. "No."

Her eyes tracked along the walls, searching. Suddenly, they focused on something off to her right. "There."

He looked, but didn't see anything. "Where?"

"There, on the wall…"

He got to his feet and moved to investigate it, even though he knew it was pointless. "Magnus, there's nothing here, I already—" He cut himself off as he caught sight of a gap in the rock. It was subtle, a hidden pocket that he'd missed the first time around. But as he drew closer, he could see that it delved deeper into the mountain.

"There's some kind of tunnel here, Magnus," he shouted. "How did you even—"

"It must be some kind of seam. It could lead to another a part of the cave system." She met his gaze squarely, even as she laboriously worked to push herself off the boulder. "It's not exactly my first cave, Will."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course it wasn't. He was beginning to think that there was no more firsts to be had for her. "You shouldn't be moving," he told her.

"I've got my breath back," she countered. "And standing is the least of my concerns if we're going to go down that tunnel."

She had a point, and she was already on her feet anyways. "How's your pain?"

"Better," she answered softly. "And my head's clearer."

"That's good." A little hard to believe, but who was he to contradict her? He'd suspected for a while that her "unique physiology" gave her a quick healing time, but it hadn't been enough to heal her radiation poisoning—was it enough to heal those busted ribs?

She spotted a backpack on the ground, and nodded towards it. "What's in there?"

"Flashlights, glo-sticks, a little bit of rope that won't really do us any good…" he told her. "And I threw the rest of the bandages in there.

She nodded in approval, before scooping it up and swinging it over her shoulder. She swallowed a groan of pain, but he saw it anyways and immediately reacted. "Nice try," he said, striding towards her. He reached for the pack as soon as he was in reach, but she twisted away from him.

"You're injured."

"So are you," he fired back. "I think I should be the one to carry it—you did a good job patching me up."

It was true. He could barely feel the wound now. It'd probably be sore for days once they got home, but the survival instinct must have kicked in, because he felt good as new. To his surprise, she handed the pack over without another word of protest.

"Let's just get out here," she told him, moving past to take a closer look at the seam she'd spotted. "Pass me a flashlight?"

He did so, not bothering to question her obvious desire to go first. He watched as she clicked it on and shone it down the tunnel, inspecting it as closely as if she might actually be able to see where it went. And when she climbed up to lever herself in, he watched carefully without saying a word. And then he followed, delving head first into the tunnel after her.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Cue the snark. That's all I've got to say! :)_

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><p>For the first dozen meters it was okay. But then the ceiling sloped lower and lower, forcing them closer to the cold, damp rock beneath them. Soon Will was hugging the ground, crabbing his way deeper into the yawning abyss, the light of his flashlight doing little to illuminate the chasm ahead.<p>

And it didn't take long for the knowledge that they were miles underground, buried beneath kilotons of rock that could collapse on them at any moment, to come crashing down on his head like an avalanche.

"Magnus…"

She didn't hear him. Ahead, she wormed her way further from him, delving deeper without hesitation. Never hesitation.

"Magnus!"

"What?"

Will blinked in surprise at the word she bit out, her flashlight whipping around to blind him.

"We should turn back…"

The light disappeared as suddenly as it had come. "No."

"Magnus, we have no idea how far this leads, if it actually leads _anywhere_! It could come down on us at any second!"

"This seam is more structurally sound than the cavern we just left," she countered swiftly. "The same cavern that had no means of escape and was riddled with corpses!"

"This is idiotic!"

"It's the only option, Will!"

Will shook his head, stopping dead in his tracks. "No! No, it isn't! I've gone along with your crazy ideas before, Magnus, but this—!"

"Go on! Doubt me! Go ahead!" she fired back. "You've done nothing else for the past three months!"

"Oh, you wanna go that route? Really? All right! Let's talk about how you chilled out in the Sanctuary while Hollow Earth invaded the surface, huh? How you didn't come out of your little vacation until Henry finally managed to track you down!"

"Oh, that is completely—"

"And if that's not enough, you've also thrown us into the middle of a clandestine war, nearly killed my girlfriend, _and_ torched nearly every bridge we ever had!"

"Fine!" The light turned back into his eyes, and he winced at the sudden brightness. "I'm not exactly pulling you along by the ear here, am I?" Her tone was sharp, biting, and furious. "If you want to go back, then _go back_! I will send a rescue team to your location as soon as I can make contact with Henry." The light disappeared. "Let me know who makes it there first—them, or _SCIU_."

A backhanded reminder that even if he waited, it was a toss-up as to whether he'd actually make it home in the near future. He hesitated a moment longer, then started following her once more. "Fine!" he shouted, his anger reverberating along the tight confines of the tunnel.

"Fine!" she snarked back.

"Fine!"

After that, they didn't speak again until the tunnel widened again and finally spat them out into another corridor of the system. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to wriggle out all of the way, giving him room to stick his own head out and suck down several much-needed lungfuls of fresh air. Well—_fresher_, in any case.

When he had recovered, he slid the rest of the way out, and leveled a glare at her. "Well, _that_ was a refreshing change of pace." Blue eyes lanced at him in the semi-darkness. "Charge! Onwards! All ahead full! Lucky for me I wasn't in front of you when I stopped—you might have just crawled over me and kept on going! You don't even stop to think about what happens if you're wrong, do you?"

"There is a time and a place for doubt and uncertainty, Will. Being chest deep in a tunnel a mile underground is neither."

Her anger was tempered by the breathlessness of her voice. It was only then Will noticed her hugging her ribcage, her features tight with pain as she sucked air between parted lips. Wordlessly, he dropped his pack to the ground and pawed through it, yanking out the water bottle and chucking it towards her. It landed heavily in the gravel in front of her knees, and she glared at him for the impersonal delivery. He didn't care.

"Drink. You need it."

She grabbed it up and unscrewed the top, and for a second Will thought she would obey without sniping back at him. A moment later he was proven wrong.

"I don't know…" she muttered darkly. "Maybe you'd like it better if I died of dehydration down here."

Will blinked, anger building in his gut. "What are you talking about?"

She swallowed a gulp of water. "I'd be out of the picture, no longer playing god, and you would be free to run my Network the way _you_ see fit. Because clearly, you think you could do a much better job than I have."

Will considered denying it. But his retaliatory temper would have none of it. "Well, who knows? Maybe if you'd stayed gone after your little _hiatus_, we wouldn't be in the middle of goddamn war!"

Magnus chugged another swallow before screwing the lid back on with a vicious twist of her wrist. She lobbed it back at him sharply. "Here. You drink. Maybe it'll shut you up long enough for me to have a moment's peace!"

His only response was a bitter swig of the water, still as cool as it had been straight out of the pool. It felt good, and moments later he felt better. The throbbing of his gunshot wound eased, and his spirits lifted. He glanced at his boss, and despite himself, he felt relieved that her color looked better, and her breathing had eased.

Her eyes were closed, and she relaxed back against the boulder she'd claimed for her own. "I'm sorry, Will," she uttered softly. "I don't know what came over me."

"We're both in pain," he pointed out. "And considering anyone else with your injuries would probably be dead by now, I think a little irritability is understandable."

Her jaw ground together, no doubt swallowing a retort. But whatever. He hadn't started it. She did.

"I suggest we both take a moment to regain our strength," she delivered bluntly. "A _quiet_ one."

And so he sat, taking another drink. The cave remained silent until Will began to feel… strange. "Magnus…"

She must have sensed something in his voice, because when she looked up at him, it was in concern, not irritation. "What's wrong?"

"Something—something's happening…"

"Let me look at that wound," she told him, abandoning her rock to check on him. Her hands were steady and sure as she removed the bandage, despite her features tense enough for him to know she was expecting the worst.

But when she peeled back the bandage, she froze—as did he. "What the—?"

It was gone. All that was left of the wound was a bloody splotch on the white bandage. But his side showed nothing but pink, healthy tissue.

Magnus blinked. "I didn't hit my head that hard… did I?"

"Actually, you did. But you're not hallucinating…" His hands trailed over the smooth skin. "And come to think of it, your head wound seems to have healed on its own too."

"What?"

"You had a gash up here," he motioned on his own brow. "But it's gone now. Actually—it might've been healed before we even left the cavern." He couldn't remember seeing it. And he hadn't thought to bandage it. Now he knew why.

He lifted the water bottle, staring at the liquid within. "You don't think—?

"Will, the serpent… It was said to give its followers strength and wisdom. But what if—?"

"What if it wasn't the snake at all? It was the water it was guarding…"

"It makes sense!" Her eyes were sparkling now, her lips curling into a smile. She was a scientist again, fascinated and excited by the wonders of the world. "My father had it completely wrong. Oh, if only he'd known… He would have loved this."

A note of sadness edged into her tone. Will moved to cover her hand with his, but she shook herself out of it, and busied herself with repacking the backpack.

"But as miraculous as the water's effect may seem, they are only temporary. I don't know about you, but I think our first dose wore off in that crawlspace back there."

"Yeah… It left me feeling exhausted."

She paused in her movements. "And somewhat bitter."

Will decided to ignore that little dig. So maybe he had earned it. A little.

"Let's keep moving," she continued. "We need to go as far as we can before _this_ dose begins to wear off as well."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I'm still working on my NCIS fic, but this was mostly done on my PC and I was playing with OpenOffice this morning, so here it is. Don't get your hopes up for frequent updates to this thing though. It's still my "whenever the muse strikes" fic. :)_

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><p>The trek was long, winding deeper and deeper into the cave system. And every step that Will took followed Magnus', whose only hesitation came when they reached a fork in the tunnel, pausing only a moment before continuing headlong into the depths of the mountain. She didn't once confer with him, never once asked his opinion. But as they continued to trudge along in silence, Will's acceptance of the situation slowly turned bitter.<p>

It left a bad taste on his tongue, and before long he was dragging his feet, certain that the surface lay down the path they _hadn't_ taken.

"Magnus..." She didn't slow. It was as if she hadn't heard him. Her head was continually moving inspecting the roof of the tunnel and glancing across the walls as though searching for some clue that would lead them home. He couldn't pretend to know what she was doing, or what was going through her mind... and he didn't really care. "Magnus!"

"_What, _Will?" Her huff was guttural, and he saw her wince at the strain it put on her ribs. Come to think of it, his gunshot wound was beginning to throb again. Or was it his head? He couldn't be sure, and instead he ignored both, his focus on getting to the surface. "What is it this time?"

"This isn't the right way."

Her response was a huff of air that instantly set him on edge. His concerns meant nothing to her, and they both knew it. "You're familiar with this cavern then?"

"No, but you need to consider the fact that you might be wrong—"

"I need to do nothing of the sort."

"Yes! Yes, you do!" he fired back. He took a forceful step forward, but she didn't seem cowed in the slightest. "Because you and I both know that if you're wrong, it won't be you who pays the price."

Finally, she paused. Something flashed through her gaze, and when she spoke, her voice was low. "Do you truly believe I risk your life so cavalierly?"

"I don't know," he confessed. Some days he was sure of it. Others, though... he wondered. "But I think you've forgotten that not all of us have as long as you do."

"Will..."

"I only have one set of days, Magnus… I think you need to appreciate what it means if I give them all to you!"

He stalked past her, anger radiating from him in waves, determined to have the last the word. But it wasn't to be. "I think about it every day."

Will stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned to face her. "_What?_"

"You don't even realize, do you?" she continued. This time she was the one to stalk forward, prowling towards him with her gaze narrowed to a predatory stare. "You don't ever stop to realize that I envy you."

"You? Envy me?" He didn't bother to hide his scoffing skepticism.

Her brows arched gracefully. "Are you really so narrow-minded that you don't see it? That you don't realize how lucky you are to know that your life will someday end?"

"That's ridiculous," he fired back. "No one ever wishes—"

"They do when they've lived as long as I have, Will. When they have seen family and loved ones die, and then gotten the chance to witness it all over again." Her lips curled into a mirthless smile. "Some _vacation_, as you say."

"Magnus…"

"You wish for longevity, and yet you don't even utilize those precious days you've already had."

"What are you talking about—?"

"You'd be surprised how much you can accomplish in one set of days, Will. Or have you forgotten that I was once as mortal as you?"

"Well—"

"By the time I was your age I was helping my father with his work, attending Oxford... Blazing trails for both my fellow scientists and my fellow women. I was studying with the brightest minds in Europe by the time I was your age now, and where were you when I found you?"

He didn't answer. That didn't stop her.

"Sleepless, aimless, without purpose. I gave your life direction, Will. I gave you fulfillment, closure, and how do you repay me? With unfounded judgements and resentment for making the decisions I have when you have only benefited from them!"

"Magnus—!"

She cut him off with a single, imposing step forward. "Perhaps before you go agonizing over _my_ life, you ought to take a closer look at your own."

"You—"

"Step up, Will! Step up and stop blaming me for your own failures!"

"Oh, now that's rich, coming from a woman who shoves away anyone who doesn't live up to her standards!" Will shone his own flashlight in her eyes, making her wince. "And don't even try to deny it, you know it's true!"

She shoved his hand down, forcing the flashlight beam from her face. "It isn't—"

"Druitt."

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she very nearly took a step back, as if he had physically struck her. "You can't even begin to judge—"

"Griffin, Watson… and now me. Are we all just expendable in your mind? Is that how you cope?" His head was clear, and he knew hers wasn't. He felt, for once, like he was on the higher ground.

A thought, a horrible, hurtful thought came to him, and she saw it come. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and her jaw set in a defensive line. "_Don't_…"

"Ashley."

There. He said it. Why did he say that? To drive his point home. She attacked his personal life, so he attacked hers. He attacked the one thing he knew would still make her cry.

Only he didn't expect the right hook that came flying out of the shadows to slam into his jaw with blinding force. He staggered, but didn't go down until a leg hooked around his and her arm pressed against his throat, throwing him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him.

"You _bastard_," she breathed, inches from his face. Her knee pressed into his sternum, pressing the breath from his lungs with torturous deliberation.

"Magnus…" He struggled to speak, but a jab from her knee silenced him.

"Shut up."

The growl in her voice scared him—scared him more than the time they were trapped on the sub. At least then, he'd known that she was under the influence of some chaos-loving Abnormal. But this… the water may have brought this to the surface, but it was all her. And in that moment, she looked like she wanted to kill him.

"Before you let more bile spill past your lips, consider this: if my daughter—my beautiful, precious girl—was _expendable_… What do you think that makes _you_?"

Oh, Jesus. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and his wound ached. His mind was beginning to spin, and he didn't know if it was from the withdrawal or his slow suffocation. But just as his vision started going dark along the edges, the pressure lifted as Magnus pulled herself away from him.

He coughed and sputtered, and when his vision cleared he found Magnus doing the same, one arm bracing her ribs while the other braced itself against the tunnel wall, keeping her up. Her flashlight lay discarded on the ground, shining uselessly back down the direction they'd come.

Will eyed the backpack that had been left forgotten of to the side. She needed some of that water, but the idea of getting even remotely close to her right now was not an appealing notion. But despite the little voice in his head urging him to let her suffer, he got the water and crawled closer to her, staying on his knees as he offered the bottle to her.

"Get away from me," she muttered darkly, knocking his hand away. Only a quick save on his part kept the water from sloshing out to be wasted on the gravel-strewn ground.

Will huffed a sigh of long-suffering patience. "Magnus, you're in withdrawal..." He was too, but he'd address that later. Much, much later.

"Shove off."

Her voice was thick and bitter, laden with resentment that bordered on hate. Will had never thought she would ever use such a tone with him. Not after everything that they'd gone through together. But now that he thought about it, four years wasn't very long in the big scheme of things. For him it was, as the resident commitment-phobic psychologist, but for her? Barely a blip on the radar.

"I watched her die." A dark whisper, a remorse so heavy it poured from her lips as if it had a life of its own. "I watched her die and then spent 113 years dreading the moment it would happen again, knowing that this time… _this_ time, I could have saved her."

Will swallowed nervously. "No, you couldn't. If you had…"

A mirthless laugh answered him. "If I had, things would have been much different. For the both of us."

Will blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I would still have my daughter, and absolutely nothing in the past three years would have happened the way it has. We wouldn't know Kate, Henry might never have met Erica, and you and Abby wouldn't be together—"

"You don't know that," Will ground out.

"You think I didn't notice the way you looked at Ashley?" Magnus glared at him, accusation heavy in her eyes. "The way you panted after my daughter like a bitch in heat?"

Will's cheeks flushed despite himself. Her accusations were out of line, baseless…

"If she were still alive you wouldn't have given Abby a second glance—you would never have trusted her the way you did."

"You don't know anything—"

"Oh, really!" She rounded on him furiously. "A moment ago you were accusing me of knowing too much, and now suddenly I know nothing at all?"

"Just drink the damn water," he seethed. He thrust the bottle towards her, only for her to surge to her feet.

"I don't want any."

"Magnus!"

"You drink it!" But clearly, her tone told him exactly how much she cared if he actually drank it or not. In the split second it took for her spite to register in his consciousness, he'd made his decision. He moved without thinking, and only when Magnus was back on the ground, wincing at the pain of jarred ribs, did he realize his intent.

He shoved the bottle of magic water against her lips, forcing her head back as he tipped the liquid down her throat. First she sputtered, but when he refused to let up she had no other choice than to drink it. He watched her swallow, the almost desperate gulping belying her risk of drowning if she continued to refuse it. But he didn't let up until her hand found the wound on his side and squeezed.

The pain woke him up, and he blinked as though coming out of a sleep. He immediately pulled back, finally letting her pull in a deep breath of stale air. She coughed harshly, expelling the water that had found its way down her trachea. Will kept himself from helping her, instead watching helplessly with wide eyes.

Blue eyes finally met his in a baleful glare, and he was suddenly at a loss to explain himself. "I—" His voice broke uncertainly. "It was the right thing to do..."

But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't an excuse, or even an explanation. And it seemed to scare him more than it did her. Her lips twisted into a wry line, and her chin tilted in a motion that whispered "I told you so."

"How does it feel, Will?" she asked, her voice heavy. "To do what's necessary, no matter the consequence?"

He didn't have an answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Will remained silent as they wound their way through the tunnels. More than once he was reminded of their journey to Hollow Earth, with the sharp crags of stone arcing over their heads. But that was where the similarities ended. A year ago, she had been fairly sparkling as they explored the underground maze, eagerly anticipating the wonders that awaited them.

This time she crackled with anger, a dark fire burning the edges of her very being. Before, they had shared an easy banter. Now, she barely looked at him.

With his mind clear again, he couldn't bring himself to blame her. Jesus, what had he been thinking? First throwing Ashley in her face—as if she'd had any kind of control over the Cabal's machinations—and then nearly drowning her. She had every right to be pissed.

But he still couldn't deny the sense of satisfaction lurking in his gut at having gotten any reaction out of her at all. Ever since she'd come down off her damn Nepali mountain, she'd been so closed off, so removed from everything—like none of it actually got through to her. It didn't touch her, though it was happening all around her.

And he was glad for the open cavern they finally stumbled into. A pool of clear, clean water glimmered in the sunlight that leaked in through the cracked ceiling, and they were presented with a breath of fresh air, so refreshing after the dank darkness of the tunnels behind them.

Will hung back as Magnus knelt, reaching down to scoop a handful of water into her palm. Her tongue flicked out, tasting it, and after a moment of consideration, her nose crinkled before she splashed the water across her cheeks. Not drinkable then. Great.

His eyes lingered on her bent form, letting his mind wander as he examined her. Among other things, her isolation of the past few months was new since her most recent foray into Hollow Earth. She'd never been all that sociable to; there'd always been that lofty aloofness that came with her age, and she always had enough to work to keep three people busy 24/7. And to Will's knowledge, she hadn't even sat down for a group movie since Ashley's death.

But despite her reservations, she had always been visible, at the very least. She'd made her rounds, checking on all of them, residents and staff alike, keeping abreast of any developments being made within the walls of her Sanctuary.

Since she'd come back, Will now realized, she'd been scarce. Shut away in her office for days at a time, or just plain absent. Will had taken on more of the day-to-day responsibilities then he would have ever expected her to let him have. He practically ran the damn place now.

And was his first opportunity to actually see her. To take a good look at his boss, whom he hadn't truly seen in... Well, in 150 years. And from his vantage point he saw a strength that hadn't been there before. The weight of the world on her shoulders, for sure, but also the definition of muscle she hadn't had six months ago.

Idly, his mind leapt to the idea of Magnus spending her 150 years on the mountain training, mastering the martial arts of the monks in a smoky temple. Like Batman. Hah.

Off to the right, Will registered the faint sound of something a split second before a scaled and feathered head darted out from a hidden crevice of a seemingly solid wall. Magnus reacted instantaneously, rising to her feet even as the serpent struck at her.

"Magnus!" Will dove, tackling her to send them both sailing into the water's depths. The impact was less than he expected, and he realized that she'd already been on her way into the water when he'd launched himself at her. His concern that he'd taken her by surprise was unnecessary—she was already swimming, kicking away ahead of him with smooth strong strokes. Will followed, surfacing when she did halfway to the other side of the pool.

Once they touched the far side they turned to look back, wary of the creature sliding through the water towards them. Will readied himself to dart out of the pool and run like hell, but Magnus looked back, watching in curiosity as the creature slowed, then stopped. It lifted its head high out of the water, as though indignant at what it was facing. But what was so imposing? The two of them? Hardly.

"It's the sunlight." Magnus' voice was soft, and Will could almost hear the wheels spinning in her head. Magic water or not, she was feeling the buzz, the thrill of solving a new puzzle. "It's subterranean; it's sensitive to the light."

"That must be why it freaked out at the extraction point," Will offered. From her nod, he could tell she'd already gotten to that conclusion.

But then she paused, turning to dismiss the threat momentarily, as she looked at him for the first time in over an hour. Almost instantly, her eyes hardened with concern at the sight of fresh blood on his shirt.

"You're bleeding again," she told him unnecessarily.

"Yeah," he responded, unable to keep the bite from his tone. "Apparently that's what happens when the magic water wears off."

Her already stony gaze turned to ice, but she said nothing until she had dug the water bottle from her backpack. She unscrewed the cap and shoved the bottle under his nose. "Here," she delivered forcefully. "Drink."

He bit back the reflexive retort of _make me_, remembering all too well how he had done that very thing to her. No doubt she would return the favor, given half a chance.

He looked closer and saw the honest concern that hovered beneath the frosty glare, the gentle hold her fingers had on the curt peace offering. Part of him was glad to see this familiar side of her. The healer in her was the strongest aspect of her personality, and the part he missed the most, besides her trust.

But even this brief resurgence of the Magnus charm was tainted by the realization that she pitied him. There wasn't much water left, surely not enough to sustain them both until they managed to make it to the surface. And yet she was offering it to him, not caring for herself. She considered him weaker than her, more vulnerable. Less than the capable protégée that she thought she'd hired. It burned him more than it reassured, because it meant that she was willing to die down here, leaving him to fend for himself in war that _she_ let get out of control.

Before she could stop him, and with no particular plan in mind, he snatched the bottle from her hand, shoved it to his lips, and began to chug.

"Will, no!" It was the only protest she had, her reach for the bottle ineffective against the heavy weight of the water and his too-quick withdrawal. The magic water was still cool, and slid down his throat with the same rush of adrenaline that he was quickly becoming familiar with.

His mind cleared, his growing headache fading away to nothing. In lieu of the pain his thoughts jumped into overdrive—but not in remembering his old college textbooks this time. The cave lit up around him, and he could see every ripple, every crack in the stone walls around him.

Somewhere, in his periphery, he heard Magnus shouting, recognized the curse in her tone even if her words were little more than white noise. But he was already busy, his mind clicking away, rapid-fire epiphanies pistoning in his brain like fireworks. "Oh, Magnus, if you could see what I see..."

The creature didn't like the light. It kept them safe for the moment, but they couldn't stay here forever. They needed a way out, and as soon as the thought occurred to him the light filtering down from the ceiling flared with near-blinding intensity. But then his gaze turned to the surface of the water itself, mapping out the pattern of light that could provide them the way out.

But his mapping was interrupted by the score of faint ripples raking across the current. They weren't on the surface, but below it. Even with his heightened mental acuity, he didn't fit the pieces together in time. But he did see that the ripples were moving towards Magnus, and opened his mouth to warn her, but she had already noticed them herself.

She couldn't have seen them, though. He himself could barely see them, with his mind going at warp speed. And yet there she was, her focus no longer on him, but on the water, searching for something that wasn't there.

Too late he realized she wasn't staring the ripples he'd noticed. Too late he realized her focus was at the water at her waist, peering down into the depths around her feet. Too late her eyes turned to him, suddenly alarmed, her lips parted in a cry not quite panicked, but no longer placid.

"Will—!" A gurgle of water swallowed her cry as she was pulled under, her feet swept away by something he couldn't quite see. Just as she disappeared the serpent erupted from the far side of pool with a hissing roar, cutting away down a tunnel that led back deeper into the earth. The rest of its body followed its massive head, dragging her out of the water so quickly he could barely see Magnus tangled in its sinuous length. Within moments the snake had disappeared, taking Magnus with it.

"MAGNUS!" He was already in the water, swimming towards the opposite shore, but his frantic, desperate attempt to swim was too slow. And whether she heard his shouts, he didn't know, or even if she was conscious enough to respond. She'd hit her head on the rocky ledge as she was pulled out by her legs, and the snake hadn't slowed.

By the time he was taking off down the tunnel after the snake, both it and Magnus were long out of sight.

Later, he would apologize. For everything. For Ashley, for the water, for not seeing that it was only the creature's eyes that were sensitive to the light. There'd been nothing to keep the thing's tail from crossing their wall of light, and stealing her away.

At least the magic water still gave him strength, and as he continued to sprint down the tunnel, tracking the faint trail left behind, he could only hope that it would last long enough for him to get to her. If he crashed before that happened, he had no doubts about what would happen.

If he didn't find her, they would both die down here.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Another update! Woo hoo! Enjoy!_

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><p>Will swallowed another lungful of damp, muggy air. His hand trailed along the jagged rock wall, helping to keep his orientation. Before him, a trail of blood stretched out into the tunnel, highlighted by his water-induced hypervision. He could only pray he wasn't too late. He could already feel the water beginning to wear off, and knew that if it fell to him to carry Magnus out of here, they would never make it.<p>

He rounded the corner, arm bracing his ribs, only to dart back an instant later. In his thoughts he'd failed to hear the heavy, hissing breaths of the serpent coiled in the next cavern. Heart pounding, he carefully peeked around the craggy corner, searching for Magnus' familiar form in the shadows. For a heart-stopping moment he saw nothing but darkness. But then—there.

Magnus was half-in, half-out of a small pool of water. The creature's tail had released her, and now lingered just shy of her left wrist, which lay limply in the stagnant puddle. She wasn't moving, and he could see the dark glimmer of blood on her temple.

Will hesitated, but dared venture closer when the serpent showed no signs of aggression. He couldn't tell if it was sleeping, was just waiting for the moment to strike, but he saw no other course of action except to try reaching Magnus. Neither of them had any sort of weapon, and if it decided to take off again with Magnus in tow, they were both finished.

Somehow, his slow journey to Magnus' side went unnoticed. The tail next to Magnus' hand didn't so much as twitch, not even when he gently pulled that hand closer to him and away from the scaly limb. His fingers searched for a pulse, and his gut flipped in relief when he found one.

_Thank God. _

His hand gently shook her shoulder, attempting to rouse her without making noise. Her head lolled, and the hand moved to her cheek, patting her sharply. _Come on, Magnus_…

With a blink, her eyes were suddenly open, her body jerking in reaction to the presence looming over her. His firm grip kept her from striking out on instinct before her mind caught up, and then she relaxed when she recognized his face in the shadows. She nodded in understanding when he lifted a finger to his lips.

They would have to stay quiet if they wanted to slip out unnoticed.

She eyed the lurking reptile warily, and obeyed without hesitation as he nudged her into motion. Together they pulled away, creeping away from the snake on silent feet. As they neared the tunnel, Will's spirit lifted. They were almost home free. He took a fortifying breath, then turned the corner in a long stride.

"Whoa!"

He jumped back in an ungainly leap, bumping into Magnus as the giant head of the serpent reared up in front of them. A gaping maw grinned at them, then widened in a roar that shook the cave around them.

"_Seriously?_" When had it moved? Will hadn't seen it, hadn't heard it.

The snake lunged, and Will just barely managed to dodge out of the way, shoving Magnus to the side as he did so, who cried his name in alarm. Her hand pulled at his shoulder, trying to keep them together, but his desperate twist to avoid a second lunge from the serpent split them apart, the snake's trunk of a body darting between them.

It herded Will away from Magnus, swerving between them as it swooped around to strike at him again. Will hopped its sinewy length once, dodged the snap that nearly took his arm off, then darted back towards Magnus. The last thing he needed was for the thing to drag her off again.

For now, though, the beast seemed to be focused on him, ignoring her despite her own efforts to distract the creature. For every step she managed to take towards Will she was forced to jump back a moment later, barely able to keep from being crushed by the snakes thrashing body as it whipped back and forth.

It was while he was shouting for Magnus to get back that it managed to get behind him, tripping him into a backwards tumble. Its scaly body snatched him before he could hit the ground, wrapping him in a vise before he could even cry out. His scream was little more than a strangled groan as he spun, coil after coil looping around his torso like a boa constrictor.

The stone was cold against the back of his head, the only part of him not coiled in wraps of snake. Above him, the feathered head rose majestically, lifting its chin in a victory roar. It had him. Slitted pupils narrowed, zeroing in on him before moved in for the kill, teeth sharp and glistening—

"STOP!"

Quicker than the snake, Magnus suddenly appeared above Will, standing defiantly between her protégé and certain death. For a heart-pounding instant, Will was certain he would bear witness to the death of the great Helen Magnus before the snake got around to finishing him off.

But a moment later she was still there, back straight and shoulders square to present as large a barrier as possible. No blood. No gore. No screams of pain.

"Release him, please," Magnus said, her voice softer and carefully metered. "He is a friend. He will not harm you." A beat of silence. Nothing happened. "He had no intention of harming either of us."

The only sound Will could hear past the roaring in his ears was his own panicked breaths. Magnus didn't budge, and for a long moment the snake didn't either. Then— slowly at first, then more swiftly— the scaled coils melted away, releasing Will from their stranglehold.

He scrambled to his feet, still gasping. Magnus helped him up, and he gladly obeyed when a steady hand herded him behind her.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked. Last he'd checked, while Magnus was a woman of many talents, snake charming wasn't one of them.

He eyed the snake, which now regarded Magnus closely, head low. It looked almost… curious.

"It's intelligent," she observed quietly.

"Intelligent enough to know English?"

"Nonsense," she chided. "More likely than not the creature responded to the inflection of my voice, or perhaps it senses emotions. Many animals are extremely perceptive to human emotion…"

He declined to respond. He gulped down another lungful of air, wincing at the sharp pain in his chest. His wound had re-opened; he could feel the warmth of fresh blood beneath his palm. "How… how did you know?"

She couldn't have had any certainty that the thing wouldn't have killed her. He wondered if she'd even thought about it before jumped between it and him.

Magnus blinked, bloodshot eyes not leaving the serpent. "It put me in the water."

"What?" His gaze lit on the place he'd found her. "The puddle?"

"Look at me, Will. I appear uninjured, though I dare say I ought to have scratch or two by now." The blood at her temple— Will hadn't seen a wound that could account for it. Suddenly, the idea seemed possible. The water must be the same stuff they'd found in that first cavern.

"I still don't get it," he said softly. "Why would it go after me and not you? Why drag you off, only to put you in a magic puddle?"

There was no response, and Will looked up at Magnus to find her eyes wide but focused. He could see the gear of her mind whirring, churning through thoughts at breathtaking speed. _Jesus. _She must be close to OD-ing on the water, as he nearly had back by the lake.

He could only imagine the thoughts that might be running through her head right. He could still sense the euphoria from his own brush with true genius, and wondered how a mind like hers, already so intuitive, could react to it. Her eyes studied the serpent with keen intent, and the snake seemed to be weathering the scrutiny with grace.

"The Source Blood…" Her voice was soft with wonder, a gleam of discovery sparking suddenly in her gaze. "That must be it. It must be…"

"Care to explain to the rest of the class, Magnus?"

"Think about it, Will. It makes perfect sense! Why would a creature such as this be guarding the water?"

"Maybe the water is just a part of its territorial landscape," he suggested, easing into the role of devil's advocate. "Maybe it's not about the water at all, but just a run-of-the-mill turf war."

"Then why put me in the water? Why heal my wounds?" He didn't have a counter for that. Already, her eyes were wide with growing certainty. "I believe it's guarding the water because someone instructed it to do so."

Will blinked. "Who would be able to do that?"

"Quetzlcoatl."

Will blinked. "I thought the snake was Quetzlcoatl."

Magnus' head shook no. "That was an assumption we made based on what we knew of the Aztec legends. In fact, we may still be partly correct. In the Aztec culture, Quetzlcoatl was often depicted as a feathered serpent."

He nodded. He got that much. "Okay…"

"We know now that those depictions were actually of this creature and its brethren, if it had any. But when Quetzlcoatl manifested in anthropomorphic form, such as when he posed as the wind god Ehecatl. He was always very grand and godly, to be certain, but still a humanlike entity."

Will struggled to keep up. "So… you think there was a real-life, human form Quetzcoatl too." She nodded, a smile stealing over her lips. Suddenly, it clicked. "You think Quetzlcoatl was a vampire."

"Yes." But then she digressed, hedging her certainty. "Or a very close off shoot of the species. Close enough that the Source Blood's genetic signature would be recognizable to a creature that lived at Quetzlcoatl's right hand." She paused, then pulled in a deep breath. "A signature the creature now recognizes in me."

Pain swirled at the edges of his awareness, clouding his thoughts. There was a question in his mind, but somewhere between there and his lips, it got lost.

"This creature is intelligent enough to have executed the will of Quetzlcoatl," her voice continued, "to have done his bidding as precisely as if it were Quetzlcoatl himself. But when Quetzlcoatl disappeared, and the Aztec culture faded, the serpent remained here, guarding the water sacred to Quetzlcoatl."

She regarded the snake, and as if in response it lifted its head. As if it understood that they were speaking about it. Magnus' gaze didn't break eye contact.

"And it has been here, alone…" Her voice was suddenly soft. "For all this time, waiting for its master to return."

"Which it thinks you are."

She paused, finally turning to regard him. "Perhaps." Her eyes raked up and down his bent frame, scanning him with the attention of the doctor she was. He couldn't help but grimace under her inspection, and in response she extended her hand, bobbing her chin in encouragement. "Come."

He placed his hand in hers, allowing her to lead him towards the puddle. The serpent bristled slightly when Will moved towards her, but settled when Magnus remained cool and calm. With her help he managed to kneel, and he scooped up a mouthful of water. Almost immediately he could feel the difference. His fever eased, and the pain lost its edge.

Magnus remained close, watching him carefully. "I don't suppose you happen to have that bottle in your back pocket," she said softly, neither a question nor an accusation.

Will closed his eyes. Of course he didn't. It was back by the pool where he'd chucked it in a fit of juvenile petulance. They'd be able to pick it up again on their way out, but what good would that do them then? They needed it now.

"Yeah, that'd probably be useful right about now, huh?" he commented needlessly. It was his tone that acknowledged his own blame for their situation.

"This is only a stop-gap measure," she told him, ignoring his self-chastisement. "The ramifications of your massive dose earlier _will _catch up with you, and quickly."

He nodded. "Your low isn't going to be pretty either," he pointed out. "I mean, you were practically marinating in here. It probably got right into your blood stream. It's gonna hit hard."

She had already considered this. "I don't exactly relish the notion, but nevertheless, "we can't stay here indefinitely. SCIU will be on the scene soon, if they aren't already. We can't afford to let them track our heat signatures here."

Her eyes travelled back to the serpent, who watched them unblinkingly. Her concern for the damn thing was nearly tangible. Part of him understood her desire to protect it, but another, louder part of him just wanted to kick the monster in the gonads. If snakes even had gonads. He'd Google it later.

Magnus looked back at him, and he nodded his readiness. The pain had dulled and his thoughts were finally clear again. He was good to go. They both rose to their feet, a motion that was mimicked as the serpent lifted its head.

Magnus stepped forward, and the giant snout turned to regard her with a single eye. "There are others on their way here," she stated clearly. Feathers swayed as the head tilted. "These people are dangerous, and would do you harm if given the chance." She paused. "If you stay here, you'll remain safe. Please… do not follow us."

The snake didn't move. It merely blinked, its eyes locked on Magnus. With a wave of her hand she urged Will to move, which he did. She followed slowly, keeping herself between him and the snake. The eye tracked their movement, and just as Magnus was about to step out of sight, it glided forward, following.

"No!" Magnus said, her tone just barely honing to an edge. The snake halted at the sound of it, even as Magnus' voice softened once more. She pointed to the pool of water, and the serpent glanced at it for a moment before looking back to her. "This is more important," she continued. "You must protect it."

The snake made no indication that it understood her. It didn't move, and after a long moment Magnus slid a foot back, slowly moving from the cavern. The serpent stared after her, but made no move to follow. Finally, both Will and Magnus were in the tunnel, out of sight from the creature. They paused, waiting, and when they were not followed a second time Magnus began moving Will along, an urgent hand at the small of his back.

"We must move quickly," she said.

Will nodded. "Yeah."

The farther they got working together, before withdrawal had them at each other's throats, the better.

"I don't suppose you remember the way back?" she asked as they paused at the first fork.

"Don't have to." He touched a hand to her head, then pulled back to show her his fingers tacky with blood. "You left a trail. Should take us right back to that pond."

Blue eyes stared solemnly at the blood on his fingers. He could tell what she was thinking—when the water wore off, it was likely she would be hardest hit. She'd probably sustained a second concussion, which might kill her more efficiently than his own bullet wound would do him.

"Let's go."

Will led the way, trotting down tunnel after tunnel, retracing the path marked by the drying spots of blood on the rocks. Soon they were running full out, eager to cover the distance, feeling their window of opportunity shrink ever smaller. When they reached the light of the pool, they dove right in, relishing the cool water as they swam across.

Will made it to the far shore first, quickly scrambling to recover the discarded water bottle. When he turned back, Magnus was still in the water, her features pensive. He slid back into the lake, moving closer to her carefully. "Magnus? What's wrong?"

"Do you feel that?"

Alarmed, Will instinctively kicked out, his foot dragging through the water to escape whatever tentacle might be reaching for him. Could there be more than one serpent?

"What! Where?"

"There's a current," she determined, making Will immediately feel foolish. Of course. _A current_. "There." She pointed. "It's flowing that direction."

Now he could see it. A faint spread of ripples that his mind detected and analyzed, confirming her findings. "Think we should follow it?"

She looked at him, her shoulders lifting in a shrug that was less than reassuring. "It has to lead somewhere."

Will blinked, then sighed as he began swimming. "Yeah, let's just hope it doesn't lead us deeper down the rabbit hole."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I'm on a roll today! Woot! :D Enjoy!_

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><p>They made it out of the water before Will first began to feel the edge of withdrawal steal over him. His discomfort manifested as immediate irritation, and it zeroed in on Magnus like a Tomahawk missile. But the sight of her pallid features and growing shuffle of her feet dulled the razor's edge of anger flaring within him. For now, concern won out.<p>

When she bumped into a corner instead of rounding it, he finally acted on his dwindling feelings of goodwill. "Magnus, you okay?"

Her jaw was set in an unnerving line, her lips pressed tightly shut as her eyes closed at his light touch on her arm. He took a step closer, only for her hand to push him away, her body turning to the side, lips suddenly green.

She retched, her body folding nearly in half with the reflexive convulsions. He gave her space, awkwardly unsure of how to help. When she straightened, she weaved in place unsteadily. "Concussion," he supplied, answering his own question.

Uneven pupils tried to focus on him, and her breath hitched painfully in her chest, reminding him of her broken ribs. In the end, she gave up trying to sharpen his image, and closed her eyes, nodding. "Most certainly," she confirmed, voice shaky.

"Maybe you should rest—"

She shook her head, then immediately seemed to think better of it. Her hand pressed against her temple, the deliberate concession to the pain she must have felt.

"No," she returned vocally. "We have to keep moving. The surface can't be too much farther."

He'd been hoping the same thing. The air felt fresher here, not as stale as the tunnels they'd been in for most of the day. But her sense of certainty irked him; she seemed to know where she was going now, a development she'd failed to share with him. Again.

"Fine," he replied, forcing his voice into something like civility. His side throbbed, the agony of his bullet wound boring deeper into his ribs with every step. Magnus stumbled along in front of him, her own steps hesitant and shaky as she fought to maintain her equilibrium. He forced himself to follow, eyes glued to her back as they soldiered on.

Then, finally, they could see daylight. It spilled into the tunnel, pale and shining in front of them like a beacon. He was so focused on the possibility of freedom that he almost didn't see Magnus go down.

She dropped like puppet whose strings had been cut. Her knees hit first, then the rest of her as her body went limp. "Magnus!" Will reached for her, only for his own vision to gray. He stumbled, his knees hitting hard before his shoulder and head collided with the tunnel wall.

Ears ringing and vision spinning, he didn't know how long he lay there. At some point, cool hands pressed against his forehead, cupping his cheeks so gently it almost brought tears to his eyes. His stinging gaze rose to Magnus' above him. He saw bruising on her forehead, curling around her eye to trail down her cheek. A rock must have gotten her good on the drag to the serpent's lair. At least she wasn't bleeding again, yet. He could already feel his own wound pulling open as the water's effect disappeared.

"Will…" Her voice was low, distorted by the fog surrounding him. "Can you hear me?"

He groaned. Moving to get up, he barely managed to lift his head before his strength gave out, leaving him gasping.

"Will, I know it hurts," she said, her voice sharpening as the haze cleared, burned away by pain. Her tone belied her intentions, and he was shaking his head even before she finished. "We have to keep moving. We're so close—"

"I can't," he choked out. Pain throbbed throughout his entire body, threatening to swallow him whole. "God, it hurts."

Blue eyes crinkled in sympathy. "I know," she responded. "As soon as we get back to the Sanctuary, I can treat you, but for now…"

"I can't. Please, don't make me—"

"I can't carry you out of here, Will," she cut in. "The way out is straight up. We have to climb, and if I could I would throw you over my shoulder and—" She swallowed, her hands trembling against his shoulders. She was fading too. "I can't, Will. I don't have the strength for both of us."

Will swallowed, forcing the pain back enough to focus on her downcast eyes and gasping chest. No, she couldn't carry him. Not with busted ribs and head trauma of her own. His hand found hers, squeezing it with greater reassurance than he felt.

"Go…"

"Will—"

"Go," he urged again. "Leave me here, get out while you can. You can tell the rescue team where to find me."

Her eyes darkened. They both knew that even if she did make it out, it wouldn't be in time for a rescue. His heart would give out long before any team could reach him. They'd be bringing up a corpse.

She shook her head in protest. He squeezed her hand again. "Magnus…"

"I'm not willing to abandon you here, Will." She pulled her hand from his brusquely. Her finger snagged against the strap of the heart rate monitor still strapped on his wrist, and she froze for a split second before she was working it off his arm and onto her own.

"Magnus, what are you…?"

"Improvising," she answered curtly. She reached for the back pack that lay partly beneath him, but overreached and unbalanced herself. She tilted sharply, then caught herself and straightened unsteadily. Her eyes clenched shut against the spinning tunnel, then opened widely a moment later, struggling to focus.

Her hand pulled the empty bottle from the pack, and suddenly he understood what she intended to do. Despite the icy fingers threatening to pull him deeper into the pit of despair, a flutter of hope made itself known. A moment later, though, his mouth countered it.

"Magnus, no. You're insane," he pointed out, gasping. "Look at you. You'll never make it."

"Do not dare presume—" Her words were scorching, but cut off abruptly as her eyes closed against the dizziness.

"It's too far," he said gently.

When she opened her eyes, they had softened. She leaned closer, a gentle smile curling her lips. "Now you're just trying to piss me off."

"You don't even know where the lair is…" It'd be closer than the cavern they'd first found the water, but with her barely conscious, there's no way she'd be able to spot and follow the blood trail.

"I've marked the first half of the trail with glow sticks." The trail to the first cavern. It was too far. "I'll manage."

"Magnus—"

"A few more doses of the water will get us to the surface, and then we'll get a Sanctuary." She pulled a second flashlight out of the bag. "The monitor should tell me how long I can keep going…"

She was just talking now, covering her uncertainty of the outcome. She knew he was right. She knew she might not make it, and cement their fate to die alone in these tunnels. If she left, they wouldn't even have each other to ease the cold embrace of the reaper. She was selfish. So… freaking… _self_—

Her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth, startling him. His heart jumped painfully in his chest, elation breaking through the fatal gloom for just an instant. Such tenderness, after all he'd said to her, doubted her…

"Hold onto this," she instructed, pressing a flashlight into his hand. Her thumb brushed his cheek. "Rest, save your strength—but don't fall asleep." He didn't respond. He couldn't make hollow promises, not when he knew that this would be the last time they ever spoke. She had no such qualms, it seemed. "I'll be back soon."

She moved to rise, but his hand clutched at hers, pulling her back. "Please, Magnus… I have to know." A shadow of puzzlement drifted across her features. She had no idea what she was talking about. For all his suspicions, his doubts of the past few months, he'd never mentioned this. But now, he needed to know, before it was too late. "My scholarship… it was you, wasn't it?"

Her eyes flared slightly, brows lifting as she pulled in a breath. But a moment later, she released it without a word, her shoulders sagging slightly. He had his answer.

He turned his head away, closing his eyes against the pain of the realized truth. Her hand turned his chin back towards her.

"You were never in my pocket, Will." Her voice was firm, the most like her usual self since they'd woken after the cave-in. "No matter what you think, it was never intended—"

"You were grooming me," he countered, the accusation burning his throat. "Even before I knew who you were…"

"I have funded dozens of scholarships, Will. My only intention with any of them was to give students the chance to change the world, whether it be through the Sanctuary or on their own path."

He didn't say anything. He wanted to believe her, but the betrayal was keen enough to eclipse even the pain of the gunshot.

"You were no different, Will. No different from the eleven others that year who went to school when they otherwise would not have had the means. I had no master plan for you. If I did, your mother would still be alive, and your father—"

She cut herself off at his wince. A quiet moment passed as she gathered herself. Will remained silent, closing his eyes against the pain of resurgent memory.

"All I knew then, Will," she said softly, "was that you were going to accomplish great things, no matter which route you took."

Tears stung at his eyes, threatening to spill. A beat passed, then another, and finally, he opened his eyes. He nodded, accepting her words.

"No regrets," he whispered. "No regrets…"

And he meant it. Despite the pain threatening to devour him whole, and the black creeping into the edges of his vision, he meant it. It might be her fault they were going to die down here, but if he had to die, he could think of worse ways to go.

Her hand pulled away with a final caress, and then her warmth rose and disappeared, following her footsteps back the way they had come. He was alone.

* * *

><p>She managed to find the trail easily. The illumination of the abandoned glow sticks acted like beacons in the dark of the cave system. But as she spied one, then another, their glow began to blur in her vision.<p>

The tunnel twisted before her, and her head pounded. She'd felt the telltale tackiness of blood from opened wounds, and ground her teeth against the nausea. Concussions were tricky beasts, and her ride through the tunnels courtesy of the serpent had most likely compounded hers. She'd begun coughing blood several minutes ago, and her heart rate beeped erratically from the monitor on her wrist.

She stumbled, her foot catching on nothing but air as her vision pitched. She hit the ground awkwardly, making her wince at the wrench that jarred her knee. That would hurt tomorrow. If there was a tomorrow.

She swiftly shoved that through away. What nonsense. There would always be a tomorrow. Wasn't that what Will had been trying to tell her? There would be tomorrow after tomorrow after tomorrow. Just as there had been for her last three hundred years, just as there would be for her next three hundred. No end in sight. She merely needed to retain the will to live them. And somehow, she would.

With an audible grunt of exertion, she pushed herself up and found the strength to propel herself further down the tunnel.

She always did.

* * *

><p>Will sucked in a shaky breath. The flashlight flickered in his hand. He deserved to die down here. He'd found more fulfillment in his life than he'd ever thought possible five years ago. Through the Sanctuary, he'd found his purpose, his home, his family—and all because of Helen Magnus. And how did he repay her? Instead of gratitude, he had given her accusations, doubt, and blame for events beyond her control. He'd hurt her, slicing to the quick of her soul by bringing Ashley's death front and center.<p>

And now she was sacrificing her last opportunity to save herself to try and save him. To save the person who had given her nothing but grief for months. He wasn't worth it, but still she fought for him.

He deserved to die. But she didn't.

He would take his guilt to the grave.

* * *

><p>She fell to the ground, barely managing to get her arms beneath to break her fall. She cried out as sharp rock bit into her hands and arms, left breathless her as she landed bodily against the hard stone. Her mouth twisted at the taste of copper, her blood from a split lip staining her teeth. She couldn't breathe, and her head—she could barely see through the pounding.<p>

Her vision pulsed, lilting sharply with every heartbeat. The tunnel around her blurred, darkening and brightening without rhythm. The world around her was in chaos, but she knew that the chaos was actually within her, her body screaming for relief it would never find. Somewhere, off the distance, the heart monitor rang its alarm, alerting her to the lethal spike in her heart rate.

A sob choked her, her thoughts returning to Will lying alone and injured in the tunnels above, much like she was. Was he already dead? Or was he fighting to hold on, trusting in her to save them both?

She knew now that her decision to leave him, right or wrong, had been for naught. She would not reach the pool in time. She didn't have the strength to lift her head, let alone stumble the last hundred meters to the tunnel they'd crawled through. Let alone shimmy her way through to the cavern, and then cross the final feet to the water they so desperately needed. Before, it might have taken her only moments to cross the distance, but now it might as well have been leagues away, for all she could reach it.

As her vision spiraled into darkness, she only had one final thought. _I'm sorry, Will._

Slipping into unconsciousness, the world around her faded, her senses numb to the caress of a feathered plumage against her skin.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Ta-dah! Yet another update! At this rate, I might as well finish the darn thing! :D_

* * *

><p>Helen's vision faded in and out of awareness. There was a breeze on her cheeks, but she could see the craggy shadows of the caves above her. <em>Still underground<em>. It was a moment later her flagging thoughts realized she was in motion.

Before she could wonder how that could be, she slipped out of consciousness once again.

* * *

><p>She woke with a jerk, her body jarring to a heavy stop. She was flat on her back, staring up at a ceiling she didn't recognize. Or did she? Off to her right, part of the ceiling was missing completely, causing wayward shards of light to slice across her vision.<p>

A groan escaped her, head lolling as she fought to escape the offending rays. Suddenly, she froze, coming eye to eye with a reptilian gaze. She blinked, and a moment later it did as well, pulling away until she could see the serpent's entire head.

Its feathers were bold in the sunlight, and its slitted pupils made it look more menacing than it surely meant to be. In the haze that still surrounded Helen, though, the beast majestic, and she struck by how easily one could perceive the serpent as the embodiment of a deity.

Slowly, deliberately, the massive head turned, pointedly looking towards something outside her range of vision. With an effort that left her breathless, Helen rolled herself over, crying out as her broken ribs shifted. But then she blinked, confronted with a familiar sight.

Water cascaded down the cave wall, descending into the natural well that had first slaked their first, and sent them down this path to begin with. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and sudden hope gave her the boost to push herself onto her hands and knees. She crawled almost drunkenly to the pit, her vision clouding so badly that she only knew she'd reached it when her arm plunged elbow-deep into the cool water.

Instinctively, her hand cupped to scoop up a mouthful of water. She lifted her arm and slurped it down, half of it trailing down her chin before she dove in for more, swallowing mouthful after mouthful until the pain melted away. Her vision cleared, and her breath no longer threatened to suffocate her.

The heart monitor returned to a steady beep, and she took a moment to sit back on her heels and regain her bearings. No SCIU. That was the first thing she noticed. The cavern was untouched since they'd left it. There was a small blessing, she supposed.

But the blessing was miniscule in the face of the burden now settling on her shoulders. The image of Will lying the tunnels quickly decimated the small measure of peace she'd found in the cavern, and she quickly pulled the empty out and submerged it, letting the precious fluid fill the container to the brim before screwing the lid on tight. She had to get moving.

Reaching down to scoop up another mouthful, she didn't expect the now steady heart monitor to make a sound. But it did, buzzing discordantly at her wrist as its display flickered. _What in God's name…?_

She carefully passed her hand through the air, testing the limits of the affected area, and was not surprised when the effect was concentrated at the source of the water.

It was then she noticed the geometric angles of rock protruding from the cave wall, and the dark shapes of similar stones submerged within the well. She snatched one up, making the monitor on her wrist flicker once more._ Interesting_.

She slid the rock into her pack, along with another she included for good measure. She hadn't the time or equipment to do anything with it now, but Henry would be able—and no doubt more than willing—to examine the mineral further.

Scooping up another mouthful of water, she gulped it down as she got to her feet. Her gaze caught on the serpent when she turned to leave, the creature still watching her carefully. Its eyes met hers for a long moment, its intelligence nearly tangible as it stared at her.

Warmth washed over her, suddenly comforted by the knowledge she wasn't alone.

She let her lips spread into a thin smile, tears pricking at her eyes. "Thank you," she offered, her voice gentle with an honesty she felt down to her core. She didn't know if it could understand her. For all she wanted to believe it did, she'd been in the business too long to assume anything.

Silence settled in the cavern, neither of them moving. Then, to her shock, the serpent's head lowered in a very human motion. It nodded to her, eyes closing with solemn intent. A moment later its eyes opened, glinting in the cavern's light. It glided towards her, its scales scraping against the cavern floor. It slowed when it reached her, lowering its majestic head until it was level with hers.

It continued to close the distance, pausing only inches from her. It regarded her, its breath warm as it inspected her. This near, she could see the pebbled skin of its brow ridge, as well as the fine, near-invisible feathers that lined its snout. Then, gently, it nudged her, its nose tapping her sternum with careful, but deliberate force.

It drew back, meeting her gaze for another pointed moment before taking its leave. It slithered away, leaving Helen to make her return journey alone. She watched it depart, waiting until the last of its tail feathers were out of sight before turning back to her own path.

She couldn't help but smile as she once more descended headfirst into the abyss.

* * *

><p>Her temporary elation fell abruptly when her sprint finally brought her back within sight of Will. He was limp, completely unmoving, flashlight clutched to his chest with lax fingers. His wounds highlighted by pale, waxy skin, he looked like death.<p>

She slid to her knees at his side, unscrewing the lid of the bottle before pressing it to his lips. For a single moment the water simply fell from senseless lips, making her heart freeze. But then, as if answering some silent plea, his body jerked, and his throat instinctively began to swallow, pulling the life-giving water into his system.

When his eyes opened, she tried not to notice the accusation that lingered in the depths of his eyes, lurking behind his relief and gratitude. Part of him hated her for leaving him to die alone—and in his mind, he had died. It didn't matter that she had pulled him back from the brink. The damage was done, and he now had another experience to add to his arsenal of misgivings.

"You made it…" His voice was laden with disbelief. Another miracle pulled out of a hat. _Only Helen Magnus_, she heard in his tone. Only, coming from Will these days, that wasn't the compliment it used to be.

She offered a smile that eased her features, but not the tension coiling in her gut. "I got some help… from a friend."

She wasn't sure if he truly registered her words. His gaze was still dazed, and he reached for the bottle, taking another, longer swig of the stuff before letting his head lean back against the rock. The danger was past, and now that she knew SCIU was not yet on the scene, they had time. The urgency was gone, except for the desire to put this place, and the words spoken in its depths, behind them.

In time, he was able to regain his feet, and together they made their way up to the sunlight. Helen mentioned nothing of her discovery. Somehow, she doubted Will would be interested in her find. That, and a small voice at the back of her mind whispered that the less Will knew, the better.

So the rocks stayed unmentioned in her pack, and with a last look towards an empty tunnel, they found their way home.

* * *

><p>His room at the Sanctuary is warm and familiar, and in the bright light of day the pain of the tunnels could almost be forgotten. Almost.<p>

Except that it lurked in Magnus' eyes whenever she came in to tend to him, working to ease his body back to its normal rhythms. Her movements were smooth and steady, fingers warm against his skin as she injected him with a solution that barely took the edge off. To lighten the mood, he mentions her old friend and his notorious habit for a 7% solution. Part of him wonders if she was the one holding the plunger back then, too.

Her mouth barely tightens into a thin smile, and it's then he remembers that he'd accused her of throwing James Watson away like so much trash. Her best friend, tossed aside once he ceased to be useful. Another memory of hers he'd soiled by turning it into ammunition he could fire at her. She moves away, neither acknowledging nor denying his comment. The syringe taps against the instrument tray as she sets it down, and he fills the silence the only way he knows how.

"We could just declare amnesty, you know." His voice grates in his throat in his effort to keep it steady. "Forget everything we said down there."

Her shoulders straighten as she turns to him, her eyes flat with professionalism. A nasty part of his mind points out that she looks like his mother, with her expression so stern. Guilt burns at him, as reflexively as if she _were_ his mother, only this is worse.

"Amnesty, yes," she concedes airily. "Forgetting… no."

His gaze falls, avoiding the hurt in her eyes. No amount of professionalism could hide it, and he is acutely aware that he is the one that put it there.

"I never had a master plan for you, Will." Her voice is soft, suddenly tender. "The first time around, I was taking chances as much as anyone. I've made mistakes—"

"Am I one of them?" He can't help but ask, and the hesitation in her reply cuts him to the quick. In the end, she neither confirms nor denies it, as though she simply hasn't decided yet. But the fact that she doesn't reassure him immediately tells him just how badly he's screwed up.

"I spent over a hundred years not knowing if I would ever see any of you again," she tells him. "Any number of things could have been changed, and a single, minute detail could have erased the people I was trying to return to." Her lips press into a thin line. "The uncertainty of not knowing, in order to keep my distance…"

It had nearly killed her. He could see it now, and suddenly he realizes he's never really believed her. He'd taken her story as fact, sure—he's been at the Sanctuary too long to doubt her—but he's never considered what those years had been like for her.

He'd seen the strain of the years starting to take their toll even before the Hollow Earth invasion; another 113 years spent watching her mistakes play out, living as a hermit in some remote mountain range in Nepal... It must have nearly killed her, and yet, he hadn't seen it. Hadn't even considered it, because while he accepted it, he hadn't _believed_.

He does now.

"Now I feel like the jerk."

"You didn't know," she points out, a half-hearted effort to ease his guilt, "because I didn't tell you."

"Because you carry the whole weight yourself." He feels the edge creep back into his voice. When would she accept that she didn't have to be alone? That she could trust the people she surrounded herself, the people who would do anything for her?

Her gaze falls to her hands, where her fingers are worrying each other, the only outward indication that she's uncomfortable. "I always have," she whispers. _She always will_. That's what he hears, sees in her shadowed gaze.

He shakes his head. "I'm not your protégé anymore, Magnus." He has to make her see—he can help shoulder her burden.

A wry smirk curls her lips. "Not after everything you said in the caves you're not," she delivers, mildly teasing. Except she's mostly serious, and he knows how he came to burning the last tenuous bridge between them.

He pushes on, fighting his own insecurities and self-doubt. "I could be your partner."

Her chin lifts, brows rising though her eyes remain unchanged. She'd been expecting it, his desire to become more. "… Ah."

And with that single, soft sound she has told him explicitly that he is not ready. That she does not trust him, and she, ever the adult to his child, has spared him the pain of hearing the words straight out. Whether she meant it as such does nothing to ease the sting of her condescension, and he reaches out one last time, pulling at the fraying edges of their tattered bond.

"And I think it's time you told me whatever it is you've been hiding since you got back."

_Hah._ She's surprised. Maybe not surprise, per se, but he's gotten to her. He'd never mentioned her secret before now, though he's been considering the possibility for months now. He's been trying to puzzle it through on his own, trying to see what she stood to gain from putting her own Network out in the cold.

He hadn't bought her reason of needing autonomy for a second.

But her head moves sharply to the side, giving him her answer before she even opens her mouth. "Not yet."

His heart falls, settling like a rock in the pit of his stomach. He's nauseous, because suddenly it is not her Network that is out in the cold—it's him. He's been evicted from his home, his purpose, because she doesn't trust him.

"You'll know when the time is right," she assures him, but her words are little more than hollow now. "But until then, Will… you just have to trust me."

Her eyes give away her sincerity, her honest desire for him to truly believe in her. But he can't, can he? How could he? Because he believes now, that she truly has re-lived that last 113 years… which means that he doesn't really know this Helen Magnus at all. Does he?

He says nothing, and he watches with growing doubt as she wordlessly gathers her materials and leaves. She accepts his silence for what it is, and she does nothing more to reassure him. Her heels click cleanly against the hardwood as she departs, leaving him with nothing but his own bitter thoughts to keep him company.


	8. Epilogue

Helen ducked to avoid a hanging outcropping of rock, grinning at the familiar thrill of adventure that sang in her veins. So many years had passed, the tunnels hardly looked the same as she remembered. Only the occasional glow stick—long dark and softened by time—assured her she was in the right place.

It had taken more than a decade for her to plot her route through the Praxian tunnel systems, finding way back below the Andean mountains. She'd had to carve her own, at points, connecting from one system to the next. It was a slow, painstaking process made all the more difficult by her inability to travel above ground, her face still searched for by stubborn covert agencies. But in her long view of things, even these long ten years have barely been a blink.

A flutter of anticipation buoyed her onward, pushing her around the final bend. The shadowy cavern still held the same damp scent, still echoed with the faint _drip drip_ of water. And there, coiled by the pool that had saved her life, lay the purpose of her mission.

Her boot kicked a rock, and instantaneously the creature surged up, first rearing back then zooming towards her, teeth bared in a hiss. Magnus closed her eyes and froze, keeping her breath calm and body loose. She felt the serpent pause before her, its breath blowing hot waves of air against her face. She opened her eyes, and met the gaze of her impromptu host as it investigated her.

Feathers swayed as it turned this way and that, its eyes taking her in. It nosed her hair, sucked in breath after breath only to release them in short bursts, buffeting her sweat-tangled locks in the brief flurries of air. More than once, a curved tusk slid across her skin, sending jolts of adrenaline racing through her system. But she forced herself to remain still. Eventually, its examination slowed, turning almost pensive as its curiosity won out over aggression. When her chest was warmed by a familiar nudge, she knew she had been recognized.

But even as her lips pulled into a smile, the serpent withdrew abruptly, giving a gruff chuff of air before disappearing down another passage at the far side of the cavern. Magnus didn't follow. She had clearly startled it, and after her own years of similar solitude, she knew better than to chase after it. After all, she herself had been somewhat anxious when she'd first come out of her self-imposed exile, so many years ago.

She let the pack slide from her shoulders, setting it beside a large boulder. Nearly groaning at her tired muscles' protest, she sat next to it, stretching out aching legs to recline against the accommodating rock. She was at ease in the confines of the cave—it now equated to home, as for the past ten years she had lived with a roof of rock above her head. There was a deep sense of peace in this cavern, reminiscent of the months when her new Sanctuary had been complete, yet devoid of occupants. For now, there was only herself and her thoughts, such as they may be.

Sipping on water—water she had wisely brought with her—she felt her heart rate steady, slowing to a regular rhythm after her arduous trek. Between the thrum of her pulse and hollow drip of water, she was lulled into slumber, drifting of in the utter silence.

When her eyes opened an indeterminate time later, she found herself no longer alone. A scaly coil of thick, sinewy body lay curled near her fingers, and at her shoulder she could feel the warm breath of her host, its head pillowed on the boulder behind her. A wayward feather brushed the top of her head, tickling her scalp faintly. The serpent was very nearly touching her—as close as it could get without crossing that invisible line.

She closed the distance herself, lifting her hand to let her palm rest gently on the smooth, yet textured dermis of the serpent's trunk. Thick muscle rippled beneath her touch, the serpent's breath catching lightly in surprise. But when neither of them moved, they both relaxed. Magnus sank further against the rock, and smiled at the sigh that ruffled her hair.

Letting her mind wander, Helen willingly succumbed to the lethargy of peace. She had been doing it more often, recently. She'd searched for peace for so long… she couldn't in good conscience let a single moment of it slip her by.

She hadn't known what to expect in coming here. She'd only known she couldn't stay away, knowing that a creature as solitary as she was here. Especially one who may very well be intelligent to _know_ it was alone. But now that she was here, she was beginning to think the journey would do well as a regular pilgrimage.

Though she said not a word, her new friend seemed to be in accordance, as a feathered tail flicked towards her, embracing her booted ankle. She shouldn't be surprised, and truly she wasn't, though it couldn't dispel the wonder that warmed her from within. She might have three centuries to her name, but some things still continued to astound her. Her world was wondrous, after all…

And no more so than when she was reminded how companionship could be found in the most unlikely of places.

* * *

><p><em>fin<em>


End file.
